My Devoted Patron
No one ever had a more devoted super patron.
He marveled at every painting and poem I thought up.
He cheered at each of my gaudy crazy color choices,
He toasted all my thoughts with a golden glass tribute cup.
He wanted to buy all, the first time I had a white arts and crafts carnival tent.
I was against this of course, wanting a chance to sell to others, to share my soul.
This life is not yours, he said, you are more sensitive, artistic, heaven-sent.
But I wanted to sell to excited children, and their mothers, that was my goal.
My marvelous patron talked me into selling online, and that worked out for a bit.
I was gleeful and happy and awhirl with joy with each sale, so tried and true.
But when I went to visit him, and saw each painting in his home, I threw a hissy fit.
I wanted to sell to others, I said, I didn’t want all of them to be sold to you.
Now when I sell a painting or a poem, I run home all aquiver, excitedly glad.
Sales always chase away any insane feelings of disappointment or unexpected gloom.
I have a patron who believes in me, a man who is honest, and never a cad.
Best of all, to deliver it, all I have to do is walk to my own living room.
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